


Just Before Dawn

by Foophile



Category: Prison Break
Genre: College, Community: rounds_of_kink, Drug Use, Dubious Consent, M/M, Pre-Canon, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-06
Updated: 2012-08-06
Packaged: 2017-11-10 14:46:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/467483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foophile/pseuds/Foophile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lincoln’s sure he cracked open his skull and has rug burn on his ass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Before Dawn

It's two am when Lincoln gets a call he was never expecting. The girls on the other line are obviously drunk, giggling stupidly into the phone as they ask if he’s Michael Scofield’s big brother. There’s loud music in the background, some mix of alternative shit and foul rap lyrics thrown in. Hung over, it takes Lincoln long minutes to even figure out what they’re saying.

“Michael said to call you.” There's more girlish giggling that pierces through Lincoln’s skull like a jackhammer. “He’s sorta um…”

“Wasted!” Another voice screams shrilly and more laughter erupts amongst the idiots Michael calls his friends.

Lincoln pushes back his shock enough to be annoyed. “Can’t one of you take him back to his dorm?”

“Naw man.” One of the girls sounds a lot like a guy suddenly. “We were dropped off out here in,” the he/she pauses. “Dude, where are we?”

Lincoln would roll his eyes if he were capable of it without his head splitting in two.

The voice on the phone changes once again, definitely a girl this time, her voice is more slurred than the rest, “Look man, we’re all drunk off our asses and stuck up in fuck all Beverly and Michael just said to call you if he lost his shit.”

“Jesus.” Michael really had to be out of it he’s telling his friends to call his big brother to come and pick him up. “Alright, give me the address.”

It takes entirely too long to get to Beverly where most of the upper class houses are dark and silent except for the last on the block. Every light in the house is on and filtering out of the wide open doors like a beacon for the cops. With the volume of music blaring from inside, Lincoln wonders why the police aren’t already busting every college kid stumbling about on the lawn with possession and underage drinking.

This was the last place he would expect Michael to be and part of Lincoln still hopes that it’s all a cruel prank when his headlights flicker across a tall silhouette on the porch that he instinctively knows is his little brother. Lincoln parks quickly and calms himself for a second before he leaves the safety of the car and makes his way to the house, stepping over a few kids enjoying the early fall weather unconsciously.

“Michael,” Lincoln calls to the shadow, taking the steps up until the figure makes a loud groaning sound that sort of reminds him of a dying animal. Lincoln pauses, the sound comes again, and he’s quickly moving into the gloom.

He nearly runs into the body kneeling at Michael’s feet. Then, when his eyes adjust to the dark, he sees some guy, just a boy really, on his knees and sucking on Michael’s cock like it’s his last meal.

“What the fuck?” Lincoln’s vision literally whites out for a moment and all of the pent up anger stirring since that stupid phone call an hour ago explodes. The cocksucker is thrown across the porch like a rag doll and Michael shouts out in pain, grasping his dick to make sure its still there.

“What the fuck, Michael.” Lincoln thinks that’s the only thought in his head other than screaming ‘mine’ at the top of his lungs.

Michael blinks at him with eyes so blown there’s nothing but pupil, his skin is dripping with sweat that’s matted his curly hair and obviously he’s just noticed Lincoln’s presence. “What are you doing here?”

“I was picking you up, but if you want to stay here and let the little boy suck on you some more I can leave. Maybe he’ll drive you home after he swallows.” He knows he sounds jealous as hell but Lincoln has to admit to himself that -fuck yeah- he is.

When Michael starts to laugh, hugging his gut and leaning over his open pants like he’s going to fall over with hilarity, Lincoln wars with either watching his usually stoic brother laugh like he’s never seen (it's pretty damn beautiful) and turning around to let the younger man ruin his clean police record with an indecency charge.

Instead, Lincoln does neither, sighing as he steps close to Michael and pulls his jeans up over his ass. He touches his wet cock for the second it takes to tuck it back into his boxers –Michael’s laughter hitches – and closes up his pants like his little brother is all of five again. By now, Michael’s snickering into his chest and Lincoln just can’t find the energy to stay mad him. Not even when he reeks of pot and liquor and is probably riding high on X or acid - maybe both.

Every one cracks once in a while, Lincoln reminds himself, and Michael for the past few years has been the epitome of a rock. He can’t help but dig his fingers into the raven hair at the nape of Michael’s neck, sighing again when his brother relaxes against him. “Come on Michael.” Lincoln shifts them both, still not entirely sober himself. “Can’t sleep here.”

Michael surprises him by letting out another one of those painful sounding moans and wrapping his long arms around Lincoln’s waist. His mouth sweeps across his neck and up his jaw. “Don’t wanna sleep, Linc.”

His brother’s breathy voice and soft lips send a shiver down Lincoln’s back, rocketing all of the blood that formerly pounded in his head down south. He takes a large step back and Michael follows, his arms tightening around Lincoln’s waist. They have enough space in between them for Michael to finally look into his eyes and Lincoln’s heart starts to pound at his brother’s bold stare.

“We stopped this Michael, remember? You asked for it.” And it nearly tore the soul of Lincoln when eighteen year old Michael insisted that not only should he live in the Loyola dorms –“like a normal college kid”- but that they stop everything. They’d hardly touched in years. Tonight was a surplus.

“I was wrong,” Michael whines in his ear. The party music used to be too loud but now Lincoln thinks he can hear Michael’s heart beating but it may be his own. Long nimble fingers slide down his back and squeeze handfuls of his ass, then Michael crushes them together and they both moan. “I was so wrong. Linc, I want you so much.”

Michael’s leaning in to kiss him and Lincoln can’t bring himself to pull away when a police sirens warning yelp shocks them apart.

“Oh shit,” both brothers echo.

A cruiser rounds the corner and college kids start scattering like cockroaches. The siren starts to wail and another cruiser speeds past by the time Lincoln manages to grab Michael’s hand and drag him off the porch and down the street to his car. They luck out that the police gather on the adjacent street but Lincoln checks the rearview every few seconds until he deems they’re far enough away to be in the clear.

He’s panting out his fear, his heart in his throat, his mind filled with all of the horrible ways that could have ended up and when he looks over at Michael…his brother is laughing, again. It’s starting to creep him out.

Michael hiccups all the way back to Loyola and keeps his hands, for the most part, to himself. On the long walk to his dorm, Michael almost seems back to normal. He walks in a relatively straight line with his hands deep in the pockets of his pullover, and barely pays Lincoln any attention. They pass through the lobby of his building, Michael nods at an RA and Lincoln stops at his door. “Mike, you seem okay. I’m gonna head back.”

The card reader on Michael’s door flashes green and he grabs Lincoln’s jacket. “Come inside.” It’s not a question.

His brother’s room is dark but for the street lights coming through the window and it’s so clean it almost feels empty. This is only the second time Lincoln’s been in here since he switched to a single three years ago; the first was when he helped his brother move in. Lincoln reaches blindly for the light switch when Michael unzips his pullover and rips his own t-shirt over his head. “Leave it off.” Again, the tone of Michael’s voice brooks no argument. Lincoln wants anything Michael can give him, even if he’ll regret the hell out of it later.

There’s enough light to see Michael standing right in front of him. His brother pants like a race horse, his pale chest heaving, and Lincoln starts to ask if there’s something wrong when Michael attacks.

He’s shoved painfully into the door, almost cracking his bare head against the hard wood, and then Michael finally kisses him, thrusting his tongue into Lincoln’s mouth, biting his lips without tenderness. Lincoln’s a dizzy pile of melted goo when his brother pulls away for air and he lets him breathe while Michael nips a path down his jaw and along his jugular.

A small hurricane of hands gets rid of his clothes; his jacket thrown into the darkness and his shirt ripped down his arms and off his body. Lincoln moans as Michael makes quick work of his jeans and lets the cold of the room kiss his cock. He tries to pull his brother back to him, wanting desperately to taste his mouth, reacquaint himself with everything he’d been denied for so long but Michael’s on his knees grabbing Lincoln’s cock in a tight fist, jacking him hard and fast – just like he likes it. Lincoln’s rock hard and leaking in seconds.

“Fuck, yes, Michael.”

“I want you to come,” Michael whispers in the dark and at the furious rate he’s tugging, Lincoln feels his orgasm quickly approach. It almost hurts, he comes so fast and Michael’s eager for it, covering the head of his brother’s cock with his hot mouth and sucking until Lincoln whines for him to stop.

Lincoln’s trying to breathe and focus on Michael’s dark shadow at the same time. He wants to kiss him, fuck him, suck him – anything – but his legs feel like jello and he can’t get enough purchase on his brother’s slick skin to grab him.

The thought pops into his head that he should be concerned that Michael’s still sweating so damn much, but then the younger man yanks on the pooled jeans at his feet and Lincoln loses his balance, falling back into the door and onto the carpet covered concrete.

“Ow! Damn it!”

Lincoln’s sure he cracked open his skull and has rug burn on his ass. He’s in the middle of his next breath when rough hands grab and push him over on his front then drag him across the carpet so his ass is in the air. Lincoln’s forearms and knees tingle painfully, certain to be angry welts by morning and his vision is blurring at the edges – his head screams at the constant abuse.

Michael’s hands hard are on his ass, his slick fingers probe between his cleft and take little time to soothe the sudden intrusion of his digits plunging deep and stretching him. Lincoln can’t keep up, his mind is a mess, his body aches, and his ass is on fire. He isn’t sure that he wants Michael this way. It’s almost as if his brother doesn’t seem to care and that’s not Michael. He could tell him to stop but Lincoln doesn’t really want that either.

His voice is an unsteady jumble, “Mike, slow down.”

“Isn’t this what you want?” Michael’s fingers twist inside him.

“Not like this. I want – I want to see your face. Let me see you.”

Michael’s body presses into his back and Lincoln thinks for a second that the younger man will acquiesce then Michael whispers, “It’s this or nothing.” And another finger pushes along the other two, making Lincoln wince at the ache.

Michael’s not being fair and Lincoln wishes he had the presence of mind to pull away and smack his brother for being such a prick. Sex between them had never been like this. Lincoln would hardly call what they used to do for each other sex. Instead of pushing and shoving there was comfort, never this mindless fucking. But when has Lincoln been able to deny his brother anything?

Michael removes his fingers and Lincoln barely has time to brace for the bulbous intrusion of his cock, one sharp filling movement that would be painless if there was more than sweat and spit involved. Lincoln might have screamed but the buzzing of his head swallows any sound – he’s so damn full. As it is, once he’s all the way inside, Michael stops and curls his body against Lincoln’s back, giving him time to adjust.

Lincoln can feel the sweat running off his skin, hear Michael’s frantic breathing, feel how hard he is inside him, and even though this isn’t the way he wanted their reunion to be, Lincoln accepts that maybe this is the way it has to be. The only way Michael can do something he’s convinced himself is wrong. If his brother remembers this in the morning, he’ll only be further convinced by Lincoln’s uncertainty and probably hate himself for it. Michael struggles enough with his self worth without having his brother reject him sexually.

So, Lincoln is the first to pull away from the backward embrace, biting his lip against the fading burn in his ass and pushing back into the cradle of Michael’s arms around his waist. His brother’s hips jerk into him, they both moan, and the sound is enough to prompt Michael into action.

Pain is soon a distant memory as Michael’s thrusts speed up and he shifts to brush Lincoln’s prostate every time. Lincoln’s cock comes back to life and bounces happily against his stomach. It’s a small feat to grasp and stroke it, he’s none too steady on one hand and shaking knees.

“You don’t want me to stop now do you?” Michael taunts.

Lincoln growls, “No, don’t stop.”

And Michael’s hips snap harder, driving Lincoln lower into the floor. “Tell me what you want. Say it!”

Lincoln can’t help but chuckle at the show of attitude. “Just shut up and fuck me, Michael.”

His brother bites out a low growl and responds by joining them with a wet smack that nearly topples Lincoln and brings him to the brink of another orgasm. His brother fucks him to a savage rhythm, growling and hissing, his nails digging so deep into Lincoln’s hips he can feel them gouge into his skin.

When sharp teeth sink into his shoulder blade, Lincoln comes shouting his brother’s name. His mind explodes along with his body and afterwards, when he digs his chin out of the carpet fibers, his come is everywhere and Michael’s dead weight is plastered to his back. Lincoln’s entire ass feels like a giant welt when he finally manages to shrug his brother off; He’s never been so tired.

The low grade headache he’s had all night comes back with a vengeance but when he stumbles to his feet and sees the pathetic puddle that is his brother on the floor, he gathers enough energy to drag Michael over to his tiny bed. He’s passed out as he should have been hours ago and the dead weight is heavy.

If Lincoln just so happens to drop Michael like a sack and only covers his naked body with an inch of his blanket, he feels he’s justified seeing as his little brother practically attacked him and then came on his back like he was two dollar whore. Michael hasn’t even had a taste of the payback he’ll get for the job he did on his ass and the stinging scratches down his sides. Not that Lincoln is complaining too loudly since they’re both going to enjoy it.

It’s while he’s cleaning up that Lincoln realizes that Michael is never going to allow this to happen again. He’s certain that if he stays until sun up that Michael will not only shut him out but probably blame Lincoln for the whole thing. He’ll be furious that he let him start up what Michael condemned three years ago. There was just no winning, no way to have what they had before and only psychedelic couplings to regain the passion of this night.

So, afraid that Michael might wake and panic, Lincoln dresses in the bathroom. He’s determined that whatever happens he won’t be the one to drive a further wedge between them. He creeps across the room holding his breath, takes five seconds to look at the beautiful man Michael has become, and manages to open the door with only a slight disturbance.

The dorms are quiet in the early morning and as he escapes to his car, Lincoln hopes that Michael will wake up in a few hours with a hangover he completely deserves and think that this was all a dream, or better yet a hallucination that will discourage him from ever using drugs again. As for Lincoln, he’s never wanted to get drunk and pass out so much in his life.

-fin-


End file.
